


Lamb To The Slaughter

by A_C_0



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dream is a psychopath, I hate Dream now I’m barely tolerating his redemption arc in my other book, Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Non-Graphic Violence, Other, Parent Sam | Awesamdude, Sam beats the shit outta Dream, march first stream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29818290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_C_0/pseuds/A_C_0
Summary: Whatcha gunna do when there’s blood in the water?The price of your greed was your son and your daughterWhatcha gunna do when there’s blood in the water?
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Sam | Awesamdude, Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit
Comments: 7
Kudos: 78





	Lamb To The Slaughter

**Author's Note:**

> It’s currently 12:18 a.m on Campus and I am writing fanfic as my dorm mate studies for her quantum physics exam. I’m living life

Three days.

It took three days for Sam to bury Tommy’s body. 

It took him one day to retrieve his body from the cell, and he refused to look at Dream, not even acknowledging him.

It took another to find Ponk, and assist him in dressing Tommy’s body properly, and applying healing potions to unliving flesh that sewed itself back together in vain, the lungs never inhaling. Ponk carefully applied makeup to hide the bruises and splotches on Tommy’s face. His son’s face.

The third day was the funeral. A small coffin laden with gold and white and red concrete. A heavy thing that Sam and Quackity carried, and lowered it into the ground of a poppy field, marking it with a polished quartz headstone that’s letters gleam gold in the setting sun as red poppies gently sway in the wind, petals tickling Sam’s thick boot.

Sam ignores them, staring at the headstone of his son.

He has work to do.

-

With quick strides, Sam navigates the prison, the familiar walk from the entrance to solitary confinement is something he can do with his eyes closed at this point, and he does have his eyes closed behind his red goggles. He takes deep breaths, a half hearted attempt to soothe the explosive rage that builds inside of him, but he knows it’s futile the second he feels he feels the heated lava on his face.

Pulling the lever, Sam crosses the bridge, his boots heavily echoing in the cavern as Dream looks up at him, that damn mask still in place.

Dream tilts his head as the bridge retreats, and the barrier goes down, and Sam can feel the smug bastard’s smirk as he speaks. “Aw, Sammy, are you a lil cranky-“

Sam’s boot makes contact with the dead center on Dream’s face, the porcelain darling apart under his foot, as he pulls away, adjusting his stance.Chips of porcelain clink to the floor, but Sam isn’t done. He raises his foot again and kicks Dream’s chest, harder. He feels ribs give away.

A coughing wheeze escapees the prisoner , whose left eye is revealed by the broken mask. “Sam, wait-“

Another kick, this time in the neck, and Dream coughs blood into his polished black boots. Snorting, he takes a step back.

“What?”

Dream looks up at him, hand massaging his neck. “Stop, stop-“

Rage fills Sam again as he slams his fist against Dream’s face, the mask finally falling away as it reveals the pale, wannabe god. Sam punches him again, following his to the floor to get more leverage.

“Did you stop when my  _ son  _ begged you to? When he called for me and I couldn’t do shit because of your stupid schemes?”

There is no answer.

So he punches again.

And again.

And again and again and again.

When he finally pulls up, Dream’s face is beaten beyond recognition, his face swollen and red as Sam stands shaking out his hand, and pulling out his communicator as he pings the server.

_ ‘Community house. Now.’ _

Sam looks at Dream, he stares at him disbelievingly.

“What’s wrong?” Sam snarls, curling his fist again, enjoying Dream’s flinch. “Can’t take what you serve?”

Seeing multiple confirmations, he grabs Dream’s hair and drags him, calling for the bridge as Dream, barely conscious, whimpers in pain.

It was time to make an example.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment I’m so upset about the March first stream that I pulled out the beat the shit outta dream card.


End file.
